


Pinwheel

by aconite_blue



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen, Introspection, Metaphors, One Shot, Short, Short One Shot, The Author Regrets Everything, like way too many metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 14:48:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19211632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aconite_blue/pseuds/aconite_blue
Summary: He is born to a clan forged in ash and fire, a clan famous for leaving battlefields bathed in the same blood-red color of their spinning eyes. He is born to the legacy of a war hero father and a spitfire mother, to the legacy of an older brother with unparalleled genius. He is taught to burn and rage and hurt and kill. He is a weapon, a blade honed by his clan (by his village), sword sharpening sword.





	Pinwheel

**Author's Note:**

> So. Usually I proofread my works twenty times and agonize over the quality for a week before I post anything, but a friend convinced me to post this, so here? It's wonky. And choppy. You were warned.

He is born to a clan forged in ash and fire, a clan famous for leaving battlefields bathed in the same blood-red color of their spinning eyes. He is born to the legacy of a war hero father and a spitfire mother, to the legacy of an older brother with unparalleled genius. He is taught to burn and rage and hurt and _kill_. He is a weapon, a blade honed by his clan (by his village), sword sharpening sword.

At age eight he is broken, the lines of his sword snapping, the once-honed tip of his blade becoming sharp and jagged. He lashes out and catches too many people on his jagged blade, then watches everyone bleed out around him. It hurts, _he_ hurts whenever he cuts and slashes, but he doesn’t know how to stop—can’t stop, because then his blade would rust and corrode and sink into the ground along with the rest of his clan. He must stay alive, must strengthen and sharpen his blade so he can hunt down and kill _him, that man, Itachi, brother._ So he trains and hurts and kills, ripping his jagged blade into skin and bone, and waits for the day when he can stop being a weapon.

~*~

He gets placed on a genin team with a loser and a fangirl. They dull his blade, and he can feel himself softening against his will. It scares him, knowing that he isn’t so much of a weapon anymore—after all, he doesn’t know how to be human. But looking at sky blue and emerald green eyes shining like gems (diamonds in the rough), he thinks that he can learn.

~*~

He sees his brother again and is reminded of how weak (broken) he is. He’s stronger now than when he was eight, but the hooked and jagged edges (the ones he used to dig under skin and bone and tear them apart) have started to smooth and round out. He’s reminded of why he needs that broken tip and why a weapon cannot feel (feelings dull the blade). So he closes his heart and pours a cage of iron over it and takes his own blade and breaks it. (It hurts, it hurt so much, but he needs that jagged edge to survive. He doesn’t remember what it feels like to be whole again.)

~*~

He leaves Konoha in the middle of the night. There is nothing left for him anymore, nothing but fake sincerity and people whosoften his blade. (He could heal.) He leaves to train, to learn how to use his jagged edges to _hurt_ as much as possible. Orochimaru is broken too, and he’s learned to use that edge to its fullest extent. He knows that Orochimaru is strong (but in his mind, no one is as strong as his brother).

~*~

He’s fought so much and killed so many, stabbing and ripping with his broken blade. He wields a katana, a sleek, smooth sword that cuts through flesh and bone easily. It’s perfectly balanced and flawlessly made. (The irony is terrific.) He uses that blade to kill his mentor (what’s one more kill among hundreds?) and to hunt down his brother. (Kin-slayer and terrorist, he needs to remind himself. Nii-san is gone.)

In the end, it doesn’t matter. Despite his abilities, despite the fact that he can rip and tear apart (keep away, don’t come closer) almost anyone, his brother (why, Nii-san, why?)doesn’t die, not until the very end. 

And now… he feels empty. He thought that reaching his goal, the one that he trained towards his whole life (gave up everything for) would give a sense of satisfaction. Instead, he feels hollow. Gutted. He’s an avenger without anything to avenge (a boy without a home). He wonders what direction his life will take, if any. (After all, a weapon without a wielder is useless.)

~*~

There’s a man in an orange mask calling himself Madara telling him that he was lied to his whole life, that Konoha _made_ his brother into a monster (a weapon pointed at anything the village deemed a threat). He doesn’t want to believe it, butit makes a horrifying amount of sense. The way the Uchiha acted before the Massacre (tension rising and thrumming in the clan of broken blades) and his brother’s sudden shift in personality (he was broken and jagged too, long before that night) fits Madara’s explanation.

He knows he’s being manipulated, that Madara is only telling him this to use him for his own purposes, but he doesn’t care. An Uchiha’s love is soul-deep, and he’s always loved his brother (his Nii-san). He has the Mangekyo to prove it. (And isn’t that twisted—the one that took away everything from him is—was—also the one closest to his heart.) His brother has always shaped the course of his life (too many nights spent screaming, watching blood soak the corridors of his home, thinking that if he’d been _better, stronger_ it never would’ve happened), and this time is no different. Konoha _made_ the Uchiha into weapons (blood-red eyes under blood-red skies) and turned them against its enemies. He and his brother are no exception. (He thinks of jewel-toned eyes framed by bright hair and gaping wounds opened by his jagged blade.) He looks into Madara’s Sharingan eyes and feels his soul-love for his brother fester and curl and darken into hate towards Konoha (they killed his brother before he could lay a hand on him), that black, smothering feeling settling deep into his bones. He wants Konoha to feel his blade, the serrated sword they cultivated so carefully turned back on them.

He was born to a clan forged in ash and fire, a clan famous for leaving battlefields bathed in the same blood-red color of their eyes, and it’s time to show the world what he can do.


End file.
